I
Miss Reynolds called Grace on the telephone a week after Kemp’s death
and with her usual kindly peremptoriness demanded that Grace dine with
her the following night.
“I went away unexpectedly and didn’t have a chance to let you know.
I’ve got something I want to talk to you about--just you and me. Please
come!”
Grace was ashamed not to manifest more cordiality in accepting the
invitation but she was beset by fears lest Miss Reynolds was seizing
the first possible moment to question her as to her singular conduct at
the door on the afternoon when she had gone to the house with Trenton.
And that seemed long ago, hidden by the black wall of an impenetrable
past.
Miss Reynolds called for her at Shipley’s at the closing hour and
greeted her as though nothing had happened. She had been summoned to
Baltimore on business, she explained. She talked in her brisk fashion
throughout the dinner,--of impersonal matters, not mentioning the
Trentons at all until they were settled in the living room.
“After all, I think I prefer plain bread-and-butter people--plain
folks. A woman traveling with a maid and pretending to be keen about
poor suffering humanity seems to me a good deal of a joke. Mrs. Trenton
did one thing for me though and I ought to be grateful for that,--she
sent me scampering back to the conservatives! I’d been just a little
infected with some of these new ideas, but after having that woman
in my house two days and hearing her talk and seeing how fussy she is
about her personal comfort, I’m for hanging on to the old fogy notions
a while longer.”
As Miss Reynolds continued her dissection of Mrs. Trenton’s social
program, Grace felt suddenly a strong impulse to tell her friend the
whole story of her acquaintance with Trenton. In a way Miss Reynolds
had a right to know. She waited, wondering how she could begin and what
her friend would say, when Miss Reynolds said in her characteristically
abrupt fashion:
“Look here, little girl, you’ve got something on your mind; you haven’t
been listening to me at all! You needn’t be afraid of me; I’m a queer
old person but sometimes I do understand. I wouldn’t force your
confidence; you know that,--but--why you dear _child_!”
Grace’s eyes had filled with tears. Miss Reynolds crossed to her
quickly.
“How clumsy I am! I wouldn’t hurt you for worlds, dear!”
She sat down on a stool at Grace’s feet and drew the girl’s hands into
her own.
“Poor dear heart,” she murmured softly. “It’s an awful big old world
and little girls do sometimes get hurt--and lost. Maybe you’d like me
to call the car and take you for a drive.”
“No; I want to tell you; I’ve got to tell you. But I’m afraid if I
do----”
“You couldn’t tell me anything that would make me stop loving you,”
Miss Reynolds replied gently....
Grace spared herself in nothing. She told the whole story, told it as a
child might confess a grievous fault at a mother’s knee, described the
spirit of revolt in which she had thought to ignore the old barriers,
scorned the safeguards that had offered protection, exulted in her
freedom. And now, appalled by the consequences of her treason she found
herself defenceless, groping for the support of the very wall that she
had contemptuously disregarded. Her day of rebellion was past; she was
now eager to be received again into the ancient citadel.
“I think,” she said finally, “that that’s all.”
Then for the first time Miss Reynolds looked up at her. Her eyes were
wet.
“Dear little girl,” she began and then was silent for a time, gently
stroking the girl’s hands.
“I guessed there was something wrong, of course,” she went on, “when I
met you in the hall that day. When I went in I saw right away that my
interruption was unfortunate. But Mrs. Trenton very calmly introduced
me to her husband. We talked a moment and he left. As he went out he
merely bowed to her without saying anything. He struck me as being a
gentleman--none of the look of a dissolute person, certainly a handsome
man--a high-bred look and air.”
“Oh, tell me you saw the fineness, the nobility in him! I couldn’t bear
to have you hate him!”
“Why, no, I don’t hate him. I’m only sorry for both of you! But--I
don’t think you quite understand--well, that as individuals we are
responsible to those who have prior claims upon our consideration. For
the sake of happiness to the greater number we must often give up our
own happiness. Many beautiful and noble women have done that.”
“Oh, I love him! I love him so!” moaned the girl.
“Yes, I believe you do, dear. It’s pitiful--the whole thing. Be sure I
feel for you; I want to help you.”
Miss Reynolds rose and took a turn across the room.
“It’s in his favor that he realized the thing couldn’t go on; that for
your sake it had to stop. That woman might easily ruin your life; and
of course she has the right on her side.”
“Yes,--yes, I know. I’ve no justification at all except--except--I love
him.”
“Yes, I understand. I believe you truly love him; but now its my
business as your friend to urge you to forget. I realize that it won’t
be easy. It would simplify matters if you could go away,--see other
people, develop new interests.”
“Yes; I’d thought of that,” Grace replied. “But I can’t leave home;
there are difficulties; it wouldn’t be kind.”
“No; I understand that. But that brings me to the matter I asked you
here to talk about. I want to equip a house which self-supporting
young women can manage entirely by themselves with the fewest possible
restrictions, not an institution--I hate the word--but a club. You
notice I’m not smoking!” Miss Reynolds smiled. “Well, Mrs. Trenton
cured me of that; she left me bored with the whole business of being an
emancipated woman. I’ve got the idea that the house I propose can set
a standard of morals and manners--something that will be good for the
whole community. But there mustn’t be a lot of restrictions. I want the
girls who live there to use it as though it were their own home. I have
every confidence that they’ll make a happy household with just a little
sympathy and encouragement, and,” she smiled, “I hope--my example!”
“It’s perfectly wonderful!” cried Grace. “And it’s just like you!”
“Humph! It’s perfectly selfish on my part; I expect to have a lot of
fun getting it started; maybe the girls will let me dig in the garden
now and then. There’ll be a garden and tennis courts, and they must
have a dance once a week, and I might drop in occasionally.”
“Oh, they’ll adore you!”
“Well, I don’t mean to bother them. There are such houses in New York
and Chicago and I’m going to visit them and get all the practical
ideas I can before I say anything about it. I need some one to help me
collect data and look after the thousand and one details of planning.
We’ll call it a secretaryship. Now, Grace,” and Miss Reynolds beamed on
her, “will _you_ help me?”
“Why, Miss Reynolds!”
“It might be just what you need right now,” Miss Reynolds went on,
ignoring the girl’s questioning, troubled look. “In fact, my dear
child, you put the whole idea in my head by things you’ve dropped from
time to time about the problems of young business women.”
“But now--since you know----”
“Dear child, it’s knowing that makes me all the more eager to have
your help! It’s only people who make mistakes and suffer that really
understand. And we’ve got to have some heart in our club! So we’ll call
it settled and we’ll go to New York two weeks from today and begin our
work.”